True Love is When You Wipeout Together
by passequine
Summary: "Willkommen, ladies and gents, to the Hetalia WipeOut, Couples Edition! We've got quite the obstacle course today for these unlucky folks, isn't that right, Antonio?" Gilbert grins. Matthew grins mischievously. "Hey, Al. Pass me some of that popcorn."
1. Chapter 1

"Alfred. Why did you drag me here."

Matthew is beyond exasperated with his brother's antics, and waiting in these bleachers among almost every nation with an ominous looking obstacle course facing them, he does not feel this – whatever _this_ was – is going to end well. Alfred had better have a good explanation for making him miss the hockey match at home.

"Don't worry, bro, you're not participating. I just thought you'd appreciate being front row for what's about to happen," Alfred replies with mischief. "You're gonna love it. Hey, it's Gilbert and Antonio! Get ready for an ab workout, Mat, 'cause this is gonna be hilarious."

Alfred promptly starts stuffing himself with popcorn while Matthew gives a curious glance towards the two newcomers, both holding a mic and dressed in, of all things, suits. In this weather. What the hell is going on?

"_Willkommen_, ladies and gents, to the Hetalia WipeOut, Couples Edition! We've got quite the obstacle course today for these unlucky folks, isn't that right Antonio?" Gilbert grins.

"_Si, mi amigo_! Today, one brave couple will have to endure incredible spills and catastrophic falls through numerous obstacles, only to move on and complete the ultimate obstacle course ever, the WipeOut Zone, the final step on the journey to the Grand Prize!" Antonio beams and turns around, speaking towards the building next to the obstacle course. "The epic competition begins now! Elizabeta, let's introduce the happy couple to our audience!"

Alfred cheers along with the other nations sitting around while Matthew racks his brain trying to figure out who the two unlucky participants were. It could be Germany and Italy, but Italy was sitting two bleachers behind him with his brother. That also eliminated Antonio and Lovino, but Antonio was apparently cohosting this event either way. What about Greece and Japan? No, Greece would fall over sleeping trying to complete the course and Japan wasn't one for these kinds of things... unless it involved getting some shady manga in return. Liechtenstein and Iceland? Gilbert and Antonio would sooner be riddled with bullets by Switzerland than that ever happening. So… who could it be?

Two sets of outraged screams rise from within the building as Elizabeta opens the door and stands in front of the course, with a mic in her hand and dressed similarly to Gilbert and Antonio. Matthew cranes his neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the participants.

Oh. _Oh_.

Matthew grins mischievously. Alfred was right. This would be better than good. This was going to be _excellent_.

"Hey, Al. Pass me some of that popcorn."


	2. Chapter 2

"So," Elizabeta asked sweetly, and with no small amount of glee. "How long have you two been together?"

"WE'RE NOT A FUCKING COUPLE."

"Mmhm." Elizabeta falsely acknowledged. "Okay. So, I'd say, about a couple hundred years? Half a millennium, maybe? Of course, you guys _have_ had your eyes on each other for longer than that, am I right?" she asks the rest of the nations.

A murmur of assent rises from the audience. Arthur slaps his hands on his face, moaning in frustration. "And pray tell, _why _are we doing this again?"

"Because this is what you agreed to do if you lost the drinking game to Denmark and me last night, man. Which you did. Obviously, and spectacularly," replies Gilbert as Mathias jumps up and waves excitedly in the audience. Norway punches him back to his seat.

"Why did you have to rope _me_ into this as well?!" chimes in Francis indignantly. "I had _no_ part at all in your drinking games, and have no interest in running around making an unfashionable fool of myself."

Gilbert shrugs unapologetically. "Sorry, Francis. A deal's a deal. You can punch Arthur or whatever it is you two do when you fight after this is over." Grinning, he continues for the audience.

"For the first round, our _dear_ Arthur and Francis will have to brave the diving board trapeze, followed by the beloved big balls, and finishing with the fender-bender! Of course, they'll have to do so within fifteen minutes and _together_," Gilbert adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Let's see if they can successfully complete it without a hitch, or if they will… wipeout!" Antonio finishes with a flourish of his hand. The crowd cheers.

Arthur spots Alfred and Marty happily munching on popcorn on the front row and rounds in on them, fuming.

"Alfred! Why the _fuck_ weren't you there last night! I asked you to chaperone me while I went out drinking; I was supposed to have a meeting with my boss this morning and because of you I was too hungover to go!"

"Sorry, dude. I noped the fuck outta there as soon as you went all mopey and _oh my dear lad why did you have to grow up boo-hoo life is sad Francis doesn't love me and won't have sex with me_. So. Also once I heard about this bet did you think I would let you _not_ drink?! This is gonna be _Oscar_ worthy, man!"

"I SAID NO SUCH THING, YOU FUCKING TWAT!" Arthur screams. An infuriatingly nasal voice starts laughing next to him.

"SHUT IT, FROG." Arthur promptly hits him in the gut, with a satisfying _oof_ from Francis. He once again faces the brothers.

"Marvin, why are you agreeing to this!?"

"The name's Matthew, asshole!" said man replies as he flips Arthur the bird and grabs a handful of popcorn from Alfred's bag. "And I only found out about this two minutes ago; guess you'll have to suck it up and go with it. It's only a small obstacle course, you've been through worse."

Gilbert grins towards Arthur and Francis and rubs his hands together gleefully as they both pale.

"So, are you guys gonna continue to bicker like an old married couple or are we gonna get this show on the road?"

"MOTHERFUCKER."


	3. Chapter 3

"Aaaaaalright, boys and girls! The moment you've all been waiting for has finally come!"

Gilbert, Antonio and Elizabeta are setting up the final equipment while the crowd buzzes in excitement. Arthur and Francis are standing on the starting platform of the obstacle course, silently fuming.

"Liz, on the count of three, start the timer!" Gilbert turns to the two unlucky participants. "You guys! Once you hear Gilbird give the signal, you better start running! You don't want to disappoint the audience, do you?" he shouts into his microphone. The crowd of nations answers in whoops and cheers of assent.

"I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PASTY ASSHAT."

"Gilbert, Antonio, _mes amis! _I still cannot believe you would betray me in such a way! You wound my poor heart!" Francis clutches at his chest as he sobs desperately.

Antonio only smiles sheepishly at him, scratching the back of his head. "_Lo siento_, Francis, but you only have Arthur to blame for getting into this situation. Like Gilbert said, he's the one who agreed to this as a bet last night."

He turns back towards Gilbert and Elizabeta towards the final setup. From atop the platform, Francis gives one last imploring look to Matthew and Alfred, both still happily scarfing down popcorn.

"_Matthieu!_ After this is all over, go to my house; under my bed there is a box with a key. That key opens the top drawer to my desk in my study, where you will find my will, in case any sordid matter was to befall me."

Matthew rolls his eyes in exasperation and Alfred guffaws, spraying bits of popcorn everywhere while Francis continues, giving one shuddering breath. "I have left you some of my belongings in that will. I entrust you to follow through with it." With one wave and a kiss, he finishes, "_Adieu, mon garcon! Papa t'aime de tout coe-_"

There is a yelp followed by a pained groan as Arthur delivers a swift punch to Francis's skull.

"Shut up, you arse. And stop being so melodramatic! You won't die from this. Honestly…"

"I have no need to listen to you, _rosbif_. You're the one who has got me into this mess." Francis winces, clutching his head. "And you have ruined my hair! How could you?! My only wish is to die fashionably, and you have ruined that as well!"

Arthur rolls his eyes in exasperation and crosses his arms gruffly. "You've been through worse."

They both look forward at the impending doom that faces them. There is an audible gulp from both men.

Arthur attempts to reassures himself. "After all, just think of it like this; it's like going into battle… Just… just face toward the enemy, charge and soon enough it'll be over, yeah?"

Francis gives him a look of horror and incredulity. "Except we have never had to face _giant balls _in _war._"

There is another whoop from the crowd and both men turn abruptly, an apprehensive look crossing their faces when they see the utter glee on their "hosts'" faces. Gilbert grins lecherously and Antonio gives them a thumbs up as Elizabeta discretely arranges her camera.

"Okay! Everything is ready for this incredible event! Ladies and gentlemen, one last round of applause for this lucky couple!" Gilbert mock applauses. The crowd is deafening.

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WE ARE NO-"

"_Aaaaaand_…" Antonio continues, "Here we go! Ready, gentlemen? Don't forget, this is Wipeout, couples edition! To get the grand prize, you need to go through these obstacle courses _together_. Elizabeta!" The woman is poised, hand on the timer. Gilbird is next to his owner, patiently awaiting his instructions.

"Everyone with me!" exclaims the Hungarian.

"_Three!"_

Francis is even paler than before; Arthur breaks into a cold sweat.

"_Two!"_

"Arthur… if we don't make it… know that… I've always-"

"Fuck off, frog."

_"One!"_

Arthur's gaze suddenly hardens in determination, and he positions himself in a running stance. Francis takes one look at him, then at the course. With one last gulp, he hastily pulls his hair into a ponytail and assumes the same posture.

"Gilbird!"

"_CHEEEEEEEEEEP."_

_"_Ladies and gentlemen, the clock has started! Let the race… BEGIN!"


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as he hears Gilbird's call, Arthur starts barreling down from the starting platform onto the blue and grey slope which leads to the first obstacle, his face a mask of equal parts fierce resolve and irritation. Francis trails behind, slightly more cautious. And with good reason.

"Fuck fuck fuckfucfuck_fuckfuck—fucking shIT_"

Arthur begins to slip, his feet continuously sliding beneath the floor slick with water and his arms flapping and waving about in attempt to regain his balance in a comical fashion. As he tries to regain his balance to no avail and continues to fly down at an alarming speed, Arthur tries to call out to Francis:

"Watch oout for t-the—_bloody hell—_the fucking wa—_oh fUCK_—water on the slo-o-oope!"

A desperate "_Trop tââaaaaAARD_" is the last thing Arthur hears before he yelps when a heavy weight collides with him from behind, pushing him and the weight into the bank of water next to the slope with a loud splash.

"And that's what I'd call a great start to this wonderful event, don't you think, Antonio?" Gilbert comments cheekily, Gilbird flapping around him leisurely. Antonio is laughing too hard to reply. "Elizabeta! How long has it been since you started the timer?"

"Seventeen seconds point six; I'm impressed! And did you see that fall – the way Francis held on to Arthur so he wouldn't hurt himself? How thoughtful and romantic of him." She and a few other female nations sigh dreamily, ignoring the splutters coming from the blushing duo sitting helplessly in the water. "And for those of you who missed that fantastic fall," Elizabeta turns to the crowd of nations, "this whole thing is being recorded! Shout out to Kiku!"

A small hand with a camera strap around its wrist pokes out from the horde of nations up in the bleachers, giving a small thumbs up.

"Now come on! Up, up, back on the course! You both aren't done till you cross the finish line!" Elizabeta eyes the still indignant men standing in the bank of water. "And for every fall, we add two minutes to the timer!"

Arthur glares at her as he reluctantly trudges to the base of the slope, looking like a disgruntled puppy in his wet clothes and his soaked hair. Francis thinks it's a bit adorable. A bit.

"This prize better be worth all the fucking trouble I'm being put through here."

"_If_ there is even a prize, _mon cher_," the Frenchman says, wringing out the water from his hair as he follows Arthur. "Maybe they are just saying that to give us an incentive to follow through with this nightmare. Which is still _your_ fault, _merci beaucoup_." He adds, snappy.

Arthur gives him one of his scathing looks that he is so familiar with. "Well aren't you just a bloody fucking ray of sunshine."

"Like you?" Francis quips back automatically, removing his shoes to get rid of the water in them. "_Mon dieu_," he whimpers, "all these good clothes… ruined forever!" Arthur simply looks away and crosses his arms, ignoring Francis's crocodile tears once again with a sigh.

"Man, these two are hopeless," Mathias remarks from the audience of nations laughing at the duo's antics. In the lower bleachers, Matthew is trying to pacify an eerily smiling Ivan from beating up Alfred for accidentally spraying bits of popcorn in his hair when he was laughing. "I bet I could finish this whole thing in two minutes tops!"

"You gonna prove that?" a somber voice retorts behind him. Mathias turns around, swinging his arm around Berwald in answer, his grin never wavering when that arm is promptly shoved off by the stoic man.

"Well… this _is_ couple's edition Wipeout. If you're so eager to see me in action and PROVE YOU WRONG," he emphasizes, "I'd have to get myself a partner for that." Mathias leers invitingly.

"Take Nikolas with you." Berwald replies. "I'm already taken. By Tino." He adds, spurring said man to choke on the coffee he was drinking.

"We are _not_ doing what Arthur and Francis are doing! And for the last time, we are not together!"

"I beg to differ," Nikolas says indifferently next to him, only fueling Tino's blush. "No," he adds when he spots Mathias's leer is now aimed at him.

Antonio clears his throat loudly, his microphone in front of him. "Okay, _amigos_! Let's get back on track with Wipeout! Arthur, Francis! Whenever you're both ready!"

"That's just it, you see," Arthur calls out sweetly, "…we'll NEVER BE READY FOR THIS, YOU SHIT," he ends, fuming.

"Better get it over with quickly, then! Like a band-aid," Antonio smiles brightly, impervious to the stream of curses thrown his way.

Francis simply sighs and rolls his shoulders, pushing stray hairs away from his face and tucking them behind his ear. "Antonio's right, _rosbif_. We need to work together if we do not want this to last long."

"I don't," bites back Arthur.

"Then listen to me: the more we work as a team, the less humiliating it is for us, the less bruises we will get, and the sooner I can get back to watching _Les Misérables_." Arthur snorts in derision. "So stop grumbling, you are wasting time."

"Fine, you arse." Arthur huffs, but then smirks. "I can't promise I won't stop grumbling _while_ we go through this, however." Francis simply laughs before shaking his head in mock exasperation.

"_Bien sûr que non_. I don't know why I even bothered asking that from you."

When Elizabeta shouts out to them that the timer will restart in ten seconds, they both steel their eyes in determination, at the ready once again, the atmosphere tense with sudden concentration.

Which is swiftly broken by a joyous "_Allons-y!_" from Alfred at the front of the bleachers, just as Gilbird gives the start signal.

"DON'T FUCKING MOCK MY SHOWS, YOU YANK!"


End file.
